


Lint Universe

by TongueTripper



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, good bro
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:14:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25856464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TongueTripper/pseuds/TongueTripper
Summary: A ball of LINT — pretty much one-shot fluff.A collection of mini fics that have been taking up space in the pocket of my brain.What rules? There are no rules—because 2020 is the irl AU that no one wanted.
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	1. You Mean Kids These Days Pay To Have Long Hair!?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Capsicle. Steve has a lot of unwritten social change to plow through.

Natasha was headed to Maria’s office when she turned the corner at the SHIELD facility and sensed the undercurrent of panic. She wasn’t sure who looked more in need rescuing as she sized up the exchange between Captain America and a new intern.

She spied Steve Rogers at the end of the hall locked in conversation with intern Kerrs. Steve’s stance had all the markings of a rousingly patriotic pep talk. As he was talking, he gestured at the intern’s head, while offering something in his hand. The young intern glanced about wildly, eyes darting with a sense of desperation and incredulity. He was probably wondering if he was being set up for a prank by the crew in his rotation. Natasha caught the edge of the conversation as she neared.

“... like when times were tough. I’ve seen the work you do and a smart capable mechanic like yourself can rise through the ranks. There no shame in allowing someone to help you give a good impression. As my mother would say...” 

Natasha broke the spell, by inserting herself between the two. This immediately managed to cut off the conversation. In a smooth surgical strike she reached out, grabbed the money that Steve appeared to have been offering, pressed the bills into the recruit’s hand, and motioned for him to get the hell out of there. Without hesitation, he turned and ducked his head to scamper off in a completely undignified way. He seemed to be slightly more unsettled that Strike Team Delta’s Black Widow extracted him from the exchange than he was at being railroaded by *the* Captain America. 

Natasha pivoted to face Steve and crossed her arms over her chest. A bemused smirk played across her lips as she tilted her chin to look up at Rogers.

Steve’s earnest expression was replaced with a knitted brow and concerned frown.

Natasha quirked an eyebrow and waited a second before she stated in the efficient clipped tone used in briefings, “Intern Kerrs can afford a hair cut if he wants one. Long hair on men is a style.”

With a dejected groan, Steve passed a hand over his face and asked disbelievingly, “Really? I didn’t mean to...” There was no way he was ever going to live that one down. It wasn’t that he didn’t accept the changes that had occurred since he’d been frozen. No use fighting progress. He just didn’t mean to be old fashioned all the time. He hadn’t been really all that old when he had originally enlisted and fought with Bucky and the Commandos. It was just too many decades of cultural history to catch up with overnight. The rest of the world had had decades and millions of people that shared the journey. He on the other hand, got headaches trying to figure out all the things that he didn’t know he was supposed to know. The Volkswagen Beetle on American streets had been one of those headaches. 

Natasha’s voice pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts, “He’ll have it cut when he comes in tomorrow anyways.”

Natasha had to stifle a snort when Steve’s expression slipped into mortified horror.

Steve reminded her so much of a kicked puppy. She cleared her throat and leaned in close. She unfolded her arms as she drew out her next words in sultry conspiratorial tones, “Long hair. Man buns. Don’t even get me started on hipster beards.”

She paused, then grabbed Steve’s shoulders. She leaned her body away from him as she carefully examined his face. She dropped her hands to her sides. After she turned and continued to make her way to Maria’s office, she called flippantly over her shoulder, “I know some agents that would fall over themselves to get to you if you wanted to grow out a beard, Father Time. 

Steve hoped that Natasha was too far away to see the blush as red as her hair that colored his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait till Cap sees Bucky with a man bun! And then gets a beard for Endgame.


	2. Evidently Venting Is a Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post civil war, pre infinity war; Clint is not one for being grounded at the farm. Little does he know that the world has one chance to set things right, and his petty desire for evening the score will be crucial to their success.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who knew Clint being petty would save the world—and Dr. Strange is such an enabler! Oh and warning about the feels.

Clint squinted across the golden fields at the farm, making out the faint shimmer of a target in the midday heat. He drew an arrow from his quiver and sighed, scratching his pant leg with the arrowhead where his skin chafed under the ankle monitor.

The ankle monitor that effectively grounded him to his farm.

The ankle monitor that no longer allowed his off-books-safehouse to remain off the books.

He considered his next play.

He could very easily exploit Stark’s number and address with every telemarketing and pushy salesman that came his way. They’d salivate at the chance to hook Tony and completely forget about Clint in their daydreams about what they would do with that windfall of a commission. How would Stark like having his privacy invaded?

He shook his head, Tony was never that private and he’d probably just have his new AI screen out any nuisance cold calls.

Clint nocked the arrow and exhaled. He felt his heart rate drop and time seemed to slow and stretch like the length of the draw string on his bow.

He held the moment, frozen at the precipice of action.

One beat.

Then two.

Release.

The arrow flew to the target and time rushed forward to return to normal speed, snapping back with the twang of the drawstring.

He considered asking Natasha to forward the information about Tony’s dry cleaners from the intel she gathered as Natalie Rushman. He was sure that he had the funds to convince them to make sure Stark felt as uncomfortable in his suits as Clint did with this stupid tether irritating his skin.

He sighed, what was he thinking? He was just frustrated.

With a blur of motion, he drew and nocked another arrow, pivoting as the space behind him sizzled like children’s sparklers.

The sparks in the middle of the air, grew to form a circle, and a man dressed in robes and a cloak appeared to materialize from the center of the glowing circle.

Clint registered the deep red cloak, the man’s arrogant stance and the dramatic entrance — all while keeping his sights and arrow trained on the newcomer, despite the strain on his muscles to continue to hold the bow at the ready.

“Guessing by the sense of style, you wouldn’t happen to be part of Thor’s entourage?” Clint quipped as he looked the man over.

The man raised a quizzical brow.

“I haven’t always been on the best of terms with his associates,” Clint supplied.

A look of understanding transformed the man’s face. “Ah, yes Loki. It’s hard to believe that they are related.”

Clint knows that his eyes didn’t blink. Not trained on a target that wasn’t cleared of being a threat. But it was as if his brain had blinked. The man motioned a small swipe with two of his fingers and Clint’s arrows, bow and quiver just appeared beside a tree. He didn’t see them move. Just one moment they were on his person, the next they were beside the tree.

“Doctor Strange,” the man continued, not offering a hand, a non existent breeze flapping his cloak about him.

Clint snorted. “A bit on the nose with that one.”

The corner of Strange’s lips curled into a smirk. Clint lost the offensive posture, and casually kept at the ready. He figured if this Doctor can strip his weapons with a wave of his hand, Clint would already be dead if that’s what the man had came for.

“Well I don’t know what to tell you Doctor, but I’ve been benched. I’m officially out of the superhero game.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Then whatever you’ve got planned, you might want to try one of the other spandex types.”

“Actually, _I’m_ not here to ask you to be a hero. Natasha has that covered. But she’s going to need you to have this to make _it count_.”

Clint’s brain blinked and in his hands was an oversized packet of blueprints and schematics. Clint looked over the labels noting that it was for the new Avengers compound. Maintenance access tunnels, vents, electrical. It was all there.

“Wait, what did she say I should...” Clint’s voice trailed off, as he glanced up and looked around. Strange was gone, the lingering sizzle of ozone signaling his exit.

Clint shrugged, and could sense a headache coming on from the confusion. He looked down again at the schematics. Well, he could memorize the ins and outs of the compound and rewire all the outlets to only accept European Union Standard Plugs — all undetected. He had time to memorize it while he waited out his house arrest. Ah yes, the schemes for (petty) revenge began to take shape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too soon, M’right? 
> 
> On a different note, anyone watch Hawkeye run the vents like a boss with that gauntlet in EndGame and feel vindicated? 
> 
> The vent thing is not my personal favorite schtick about Hawkeye, but I feel that was 💯 a Marvel nod to the fan theory.


End file.
